


On Gryffindor's Sword

by dysonrules



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysonrules/pseuds/dysonrules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco wakes up in an unfamiliar place with unexpected company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Gryffindor's Sword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nimielle](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nimielle).



> NOTE: The prompt asked for suspenders, which are NOT the same in the UK as the US, and she meant the things that hold up trousers and not stockings, and those are braces in the UK. CONFUSING, I KNOW.

Draco opened his eyes to find a Tyrannosaurus staring down at him, jaws gaping and dagger-sharp fangs looking ready to rend his flesh. The sight might have been alarming if not for the top hat perched atop the beast's head and the monocle affixed to one eye.

"Fuck me, how much did I have to drink last night?" Draco muttered. The room began to spin, so he shut his eyes and tried to remember where he was. The Tyrannosaurus should have been a clue, but Draco's mind was not cooperating.

A hand clenched high on Draco's thigh for a moment and then relaxed. Draco frowned, hoping it did not belong to Pansy. Her fingers had been far too close to his balls in the past; so by general rule they were not allowed anywhere near them now.

Still, Draco supposed he could hardly snap at her if he was so drunk he could not even remember where he was. He reached down to pat her on the head—her hot breath was steaming up his hipbone. Draco's hand curled into her hair and clenched.

"Ouch, stoppit," a voice said. A voice that was distinctly _not_ Pansy's.

Draco's eyes snapped open and he lifted his head to get a look at his companion.

"Bloody fucking hell, what are you doing here, Potter?" he asked before recalling that he had no idea where _here_ was. Potter was wearing braces... and very little else.

"Malfoy?" Potter asked sleepily. To Draco's horror, Potter's hand moved farther up Draco's thigh, slipping beneath the edge of his pants to halt tantalisingly close to a part of Draco's anatomy that was suddenly very interested in the potential of them moving even closer.

Draco sat up on his elbows to try and assess the situation. His head throbbed. He meant to look around and determine his surroundings, but he was utterly distracted by the sight of Potter's skin—so much of it was on display. Potter wore nothing but green pants and red braces.

Correction—he wore _Draco's_ green pants.

Draco's horrified gaze slid sideways to look at his own attire. His breath stuttered to a halt in his throat when he took in the bright red pants decorated with fluttering golden Snitches. Pants that Draco definitely did not own. A red garter was wrapped around Draco's left thigh, decorated with tiny golden bells.

"I'm dreaming," Draco decided.

"Excellent plan," Potter said as his fingers wrapped around Draco's cock.

Draco nearly came off the floor in surprise—and yes, they were lying on the floor—that much registered through the haze, at least—but then Potter's mouth followed his hand, kissing Draco's stone-hard length through the pants for only a moment until another hand yanked down the fabric to allow him better access. To Draco's amazement, it was his own hand.

Potter made an appreciative moaning sound and took Draco so deeply that his nose pushed into Draco's blond curls. Draco's elbows gave out and he collapsed with a guttural sound. He stared up at the tyrannosaurus and kept his hand in Potter's messy hair.

 _Definitely dreaming_ , Draco thought as Potter sucked his cock like it was a candy cane produced by the fictional elves of St Nicolas. Draco had to be dreaming, because not only was Harry Potter sucking his cock, but he was sucking his cock like the veritable _god_ of cock-sucking. He sucked so eagerly and so well that Draco's toes were curling and his hand threatened to tear Potter's hair out by the roots, until another hand reached up to loosen Draco's fingers while a protesting noise hummed around Draco's cock. Draco thought it was odd behaviour for a dream-figure, but he obediently loosened his grip and instead patted the dark head encouragingly.

Draco left off thinking and gave himself over to sensation. Dream-Potter's hands were almost as lovely as his mouth, roaming over Draco's thighs and slipping between his legs to fondle Draco's balls. Even in his wildest Potter-fantasies, Draco had never imagined him being quite so handsy—or eager. Not that he had ever fantasised about Potter, of course.

As if punishing him for the lie, Potter sucked hard once more and then took Draco so deeply the tip of Draco's cock had to have reached his lungs. Draco made a strangled cry and came. It was probably a side effect of the alcohol, but Draco feared he might have passed out for a moment. Or six.

When he groggily opened his eyes, he found a smug-looking dream-Potter grinning at him. He looked strange without his glasses, but the scar and the green eyes were unmistakable.

"Thank you, Potter. Should you not be running along now?"

"Why would I do that?"

Draco frowned. "Because I am dreaming and I would like to wake up now. Not that it hasn't been lovely, mind you." He cupped Potter's face and gave him a tender look, since Potter was only a figment and it had been a spectacular blowjob.

"Um… you know you're not really dreaming, right?" Potter asked.

"I refuse to hear nonsense," Draco said. "Go away, dream-Potter."

"Do you remember being at the Gyrating Donkey last night?"

Unwillingly, Draco cast his mind back through what seemed to be an epoch of accumulated mist. He vaguely remembered a tacky, smoke-filled club, dancing bodies, and a gleaming bar filled with hundreds of multi-coloured vials.

Potter nodded. "It was mix-your-own-potion night."

"Oh no." Horrifyingly, Draco remembered happily plucking up random vials and dumping them into his glass to watch the effects. Some of them had bubbled, some had fizzed over, some had shot brilliant flames into the air, and one had birthed a nasty-looking glob-creature that had crawled out of the glass and oozed behind the bar. Draco had downed the remaining liquid anyway. "I think I might be sick."

"Probably not a bad idea, although you weren't sick last night, surprisingly. According to Blaise, you were already several vials in when I walked in."

Draco had no memory of that; he wasn't sure it was a mercy. "What did I do?"

"You draped yourself over me like a blanket and loudly declared that I was your property and that everyone else could keep their bloody hands off if they didn't want to learn to use their wands with their teeth in future."

Draco gaped at him. "I didn't."

"I'm pretty sure Blaise has already begun to mass-produce the Pensieve memory for rapid sale."

Draco closed his eyes, feeling the hangover return with a bang. "And what did you do?"

Potter chuckled. "I told you I was perfectly willing to be your property for the night."

Draco's eyes snapped open to fix on him. "You did?"

Potter's finger was tracing circles around Draco's navel. "Oh yes. You were utterly adorable. I'd never seen you so carefree, and your hair was loose. You looked stunning and the possessiveness was quite a turn-on."

Draco felt weak. "I didn't… know you liked men, Potter."

"Neither did I. Imagine my surprise." He leaned forwards and placed a kiss on Draco's navel, dipping his tongue into the indentation. Draco shivered and felt his cock twitch.

"That, ah, doesn't explain how we got here. Or where here is." Or why they were so peculiarly dressed. The very idea of Potter allowing himself to be labelled as Draco's property, and finding Draco's possessiveness a "turn-on" was tumbling over and over in his mind like a magical rock-polisher.

"That is a bit of a story," Potter admitted, still tongue-kissing Draco's navel until he wrapped a hand in Potter's jet hair and dragged his face away.

"More talking, less lapping," Draco said and then relented, "For now."

Potter stopping licking and obediently scooted upwards, probably to relieve some of the pressure on his hair. "Very well. You demanded we dance, although it was less like dancing and more like pornographic gyrating against my body until I was so turned on I thought I might burst with the need to drag you into the alley and shove my cock down your throat—a suggestion you were perfectly amenable to, by the way. In fact, we were halfway to the back door of the club when Luna Lovegood stopped us."

Draco could picture the scene perfectly and was not at all surprised when his spent cock gave a hopeful twitch. Draco doubted it would be long before it was back to full erection. "Lovegood?" he asked to keep himself from getting distracted.

"Yes, she had decided to throw an impromptu party at her place and was rounding up her friends. I believe she had also been imbibing a few too many little vials. You pouted and told her to get out of the way, but she only patted your cheek and mentioned that there would be party games. That cheered you up and you said you loved party games and that we should go."

Draco was horrified. "I _loathe_ party games."

Potter chuckled and eased upwards a bit more. "Not while drunk, apparently."

"Nonsense. The twit must have Imperiused me."

Potter's brow wrinkled. "You know, that is a distinct possibility, now that I think about it. There were rather a lot of people there, and she convinced us all to take the Knight Bus." He laughed at Draco's expression and added, "Don't worry; we didn't notice the ride at all, because you had plastered yourself to me and began snogging the breath out of my lungs. I could only hold on until we arrived at Luna's."

Draco preened a bit and Potter licked Draco's nipple. Then he latched onto it and began to suckle whilst playing his tongue over it and Draco's cock responded, swelling back to partial attention. Draco allowed the tingles to quiver through him for a moment more before pulling Potter's hair again. "Stop that. Did we make it to Lovegood's?"

Potter gave Draco's other nipple a rather hungry look, but nodded. "We all went inside and Luna concocted some drinks that were even stranger—and potentially more dangerous—than the ones at the club. You drank at least three, from what I recall. One of them gave you a hilarious falsetto voice and you entertained us by singing a few Celestina Warbeck songs. I was quite shocked that you know the lyrics, by the way."

"Please tell me Blaise stayed at the club," Draco begged.

Potter laughed again. "No such luck, but during your performance, he was busy trying to extract himself from Luna, who seemed determined to put a collar and leash on him. I'm pretty sure Neville snapped a photo of that. I'll try to get you a copy."

Gratitude did not come easy, but having any sort of counter-blackmail to use upon Blaise was worth its weight in Galleons. "Thank you," Draco offered.

Potter made a move towards his other nipple, but Draco's grip stopped him. Potter gave him a hurt look, but continued. "Luna, leading her new pet, you'll be pleased to know, organized a party game similar to spin the bottle. Instead of kissing, however, the participants had to strip down and swap pants."

Draco blinked. At least it explained why he was wearing Potter's undergarments… or had been. "How lucky that we were a pair."

"Not lucky at all. You cheated blatantly and threw such a hissy fit when Seamus tried to call you out on it that they had to let you have your way. Luna had provided a curtain for privacy, but you blatantly stripped down in front of everyone and demanded my pants."

Draco's face flamed. Bloody bollocking hell, he was never drinking again. Blaise had to have enough goods to blackmail him into the next decade.

"Even though it was amusing watching your shameless display, I was a bit surprised to find I didn't like other people looking at you in the altogether. I dragged you behind the curtain and let you take off my clothes for the rest of the exchange. When you took my pants off, you dropped to your knees and took my cock in your mouth. I nearly came right then."

Draco shut his eyes and groaned in mortification, but then he felt Potter's hand wrap around his hard cock and decided it was worth some humiliation if the result was a willing, apparently _very_ willing, and eager Harry Potter.

"The others demanded to know what was taking so long, so I had to drag you away from my cock. One of the hardest things I've ever had to do," Potter admitted. His voice was rough and his eyes were intensely green. His hand stroked languidly, barely touching the flesh of Draco's cock. "We traded pants and you were unhappy with me for aborting your efforts."

"What… what did I do?" Draco asked and closed his eyes for just a moment to allow the delicate sensations to flood over him.

"You stormed back to the others and crawled into Neville's lap. You kissed him."

" _Longbottom_?" Draco burst out, incredulous. "You're having me on!"

"Oh no. You were determined, although whether it was meant to punish me or yourself, I'm not quite certain. Neville fought like a landed fish, but you were relentless. Eventually he collapsed beneath your onslaught and remained somewhat comatose for the next twenty minutes. I am sure you gave him plenty to think about. I do wonder if you have some latent feelings of attraction for him."

"Perish the thought," Draco croaked, feeling somewhat ill.

"I admit I was irritated and took myself outside to try and clear my head. I nearly Apparated back home for the night, but instead the door flew open and you stormed outside. You demanded to know why I had left you alone with all of those horrible non-Slytherins. Then you said, 'I knew it! I knew you wouldn't fight for me!' and you started to cry."

Draco yanked his hair again, even though it meant Potter's hand stilled on his cock. He glared into his eyes. "I did not."

"You most assuredly did. Large, wet tears and great, gulping sobs. If you were faking, you should take up acting, because it was a brilliant performance. Quite broke my heart, it did. You wept all over my shoulder while I held you and patted your back. By this time we were near frozen, because it's damn cold out and we wore nothing but pants and I was too distracted to cast a Warming Charm. I coaxed you back inside, promising to be faithful to you forever."

"You did not."

Potter smiled and nodded. "I did, indeed. I had to swear it on the Sword of Gryffindor, although I managed to talk you out of a trip to Hogwarts to swear upon the actual sword."

Draco's mind was racing, not only at Potter's words, but at the obvious ruthless cunning of his drunken self. "And then what happened?" he asked weakly.

"We went back to the party and you demanded that Mr Ollivander remove his braces at once and hand them over to you."

"Ollivander?"

"Yes, he and Luna are great friends now. He handed them over and you solemnly told me you would forgive me if I wore them." Potter levered himself up and Draco lost his grip on Potter's hair. Potter sat back on his haunches and snapped the braces over his chest with a flourish. "What do you think? You loved them last night."

Draco swallowed hard. They were a bit of a turn-on, he had to admit, crossing Potter's brilliant torso and ending at Draco's pants, which were stretched with a very impressive bulge that made Draco's mouth water to see. "They… aren't bad," he admitted.

Potter smiled and the sight of that did even more to turn Draco's bones to water. He expected Potter to return to his former position, but instead he reached out and lifted one of Draco's legs in order to shift between them. Potter's gaze fixated on Draco's hard cock, which jutted above the red and gold pants Draco still wore. Potter frowned.

"These do look magnificent on you, but I'm afraid they have to go," Potter said and reached down to slide them over Draco's legs and away. They caught for a moment on the belled garter on Draco's thigh.

"Um, where did that come from?" Draco asked and pointed at it, trying to distract himself from the terrifying-brilliant fact that Harry Potter was in the perfect position to fuck him, and that Draco was perfectly okay with it.

"Well, once you had decorated me with the braces, Blaise piped up and suggestion that you needed a mark of ownership, also. Something red and gold, apparently." Potter laughed when Draco flushed, but did not bother to refute it. "Parvati Patil took this off and bestowed it upon me with due ceremony, and you allowed me to slide it into place." Potter's index finger trailed over the tiny bells. "I must admit I like it a lot. It jingles when we…"

Potter's words and subsequent look dispelled Draco's flash of dismay at wondering exactly how many people had witnessed their drunken shenanigans. A garish-looking pillow appeared in Potter's hands; whether he had conjured or summoned it was anyone's guess. "Lift up," he said and Draco obediently raised his hips.

"What… What happened then?" Draco croaked through a throat suddenly too dry to form proper words.

"Then you announced that we were going to go and fuck and you asked Luna where to find an acceptable place. She suggested we go down the stairs and take the fourth door on the right." Potter frowned. "Except you took the fourth door on the left, and here we are." He gestured around at the large room that was nearly empty but for the top hat-wearing T-Rex, an incomprehensible sculpture-type item made of twisted wire and glass baubles, and a large spiralling column of what looked to be orange candy floss and whose purpose Draco refused to guess at.

"So we slept on the floor?"

"Well, once the door shut behind us you were not to be stopped. You slammed my back against the door and immediately took up your previous cock-sucking. I was not about to halt you in order to change locations again."

"Probably a wise idea," Draco agreed and gasped when Potter's fingers reached down and traced a circle around his arsehole. The thought of sucking Potter's cock was enticing and he wished to hell he could remember doing so.

Potter cast a wandless charm and his fingers were suddenly slick. He pressed one into Draco, who did not bother holding back a moan. He shifted to give Potter better access, legs falling open wider. The tiny bells chimed. It felt tighter than expected and he shut his eyes against the burn when Potter inserted a second finger.

"Did you…" Draco swallowed and closed his eyes. In and out, Potter's fingers moved. His thumb skated over the puckered flesh. "Did you fuck me last night?"

"Oh no," Potter replied and leaned forwards to press a kiss against Draco's lips. "You fucked me."

Draco's eyes snapped open in disbelief, but then Potter was leaning back and his fingers retreated. Draco felt the head of Potter's cock pressing for a moment and then gliding inside. It should have been more difficult, but Draco had always been flexible there and other than a gorgeous, pulling burn, it felt nothing but good. How long had it been, anyway? Toys and fingers had been companions far more frequently than people, who always seemed to want something more from him.

He looked at Potter, whose face was serious with concentration. His green eyes were blown, half-glazed with lust. Draco hoped Potter wanted something more from him than this. He had always wanted more than this from Potter, but for now it would do, since _this_ was more than he'd ever dared expect.

"I don't remember," Draco whispered. The epic unfairness of such a thing must have been evident in his voice, because Potter leaned down and kissed him again, all whilst slowly sinking deeper and deeper into Draco.

"Don't worry," Potter replied against his lips. "I'll take you home and you can do it as many times as it takes to never forget."

Draco reached down and held onto Potter's perfect thighs. There were no words to express his feelings, so he remained silent but for needy gasps that he inhaled in time with the jingling of tiny bells.

Potter fucked like the Saviour of the world, all determination and fire and exquisite thoroughness. He brought Draco to the brink three times, backing off and not moving until Draco's near-climax receded, while he ignored all of Draco's begging and threats.

"I want to make sure you remember this one," Potter said.

"I assure you, Potter, I will remember this for eternity. Now get on with it before Lovegood walks in on us." The realization that it was a distinct possibility was disturbing.

"Well, she did walk in twice last night to make certain we were getting on and didn't need anything," Potter mentioned.

"You are killing the mood, Potter," Draco said almost hysterically. As if to prevent such a thing, Potter's hand finally wrapped around Draco's cock.

"Really?" Potter asked and stroked whilst thrusting hard. Four heartbeats later and Draco was over the edge, quickly followed by Potter, who threw his head back quite beautifully and made the most incredibly hot sound Draco had ever heard.

The top hat fell off the T-Rex and landed on the floor next to them.

"Well, there you go, Potter. You're so good a _dinosaur_ tipped his hat to you."

Potter's face was hot and sweaty against Draco's neck and his laugh rippled through both their frames. "You are completely mental," he said.

"Gryffindor's sword, Potter," Draco replied, pulling him closer. "Gryffindor's sword."


End file.
